


No Wrong Notes

by firefly124, Pimento



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU in which 15x19 made sense and 15x20 never happened, Canon-Typical Violence, DCRB, DCRB21, M/M, side pairing Claire Novak/Kaia Nieves, side pairing Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-20 14:47:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30006495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefly124/pseuds/firefly124, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pimento/pseuds/Pimento
Summary: They'd done it. Not only had they defeated Chuck, they'd also gotten Cas back. Dean had also finally gotten over his shit and he and Cas were together. Now, almost a year later, they've actually bought a house and are going for the apple pie life, whatever that is. After lifetimes as angel and hunter, though, they really don't know what they're doing, and it shows.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36
Collections: Dean/Cas Reverse Bang 2021





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> From the author: Writing this fic has been quite the journey. Pimento, your art is amazing and was wonderful to write for. The original piece (in chapter 5) told me where this was going, but not how to get there. Then you mentioned another piece you had almost used instead, and I thought, "That's it! That's the beginning!" I did not at all expect that you'd do more work on that one so it could be included, and I'm just floored by how beautiful it is. Connecting the dots from there was just a matter of getting these two emotionally constipated idjits to tell me the story. I hope I've done your work and their tale justice. 
> 
> CallenoftheNorth, huge thanks for beta-reading! (I did some tweaking after the fact, so any errors anyone stumbles across are mine, all mine!)

  
[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/146072938@N08/51024598313/in/album-72157718606283217/)  


“Yeah, Sammy, we’re good.” Dean leaned against the window frame and looked over at Cas, who had collapsed onto the bed like a cat in a sunbeam. “Why do you think I didn’t tell you until after we’d moved in? You and Eileen have your hands full with little Caity.”

Dean rolled his eyes fondly. Even though Eileen had reassured him that they were using traditional Irish spelling for Caitlyn, it still seemed hipster-y to spell it “Caity.” The baby was adorable, though. Spitting image of Eileen so far, though her eyes were definitely Sam’s. And she was still keeping them up through the night, so Sam did absolutely not need to be helping them lug boxes out of the bunker, into the Impala, and then into his and Cas’s new house.

Cas, who as of right now, was snoring softly, splayed out on the bed. He still hadn’t adjusted to being human, not completely, so he tended to take on too much and then crash. He’d adjusted before. He’d manage it again, Dean was sure. It would just take time.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/146072938@N08/51025427217/in/album-72157718606283217/)

Until then, Dean had it covered. He finished the call with Sam and went into the kitchen to finish unpacking there.

* * *

The second pot of coffee was brewing and the bacon was sizzling by the time Cas made his way into the kitchen the next morning. His hair was sticking out in all directions, and he was wearing an AC/DC t-shirt raided from Dean’s side of the bureau. Not that Dean was complaining. It just made Cas look even hotter.

This was even better than the first time Dean had cooked a meal in the bunker. This wasn’t just his kitchen. It was his and Cas’s kitchen. This was their slice of the apple pie life, and come to think of it, they could even make an apple pie here. The oven needed a test run of some kind, right?

“Wow,” Cas said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Are you going to make breakfast like this all the time?”

“I dunno. Maybe?” Dean shrugged as he flipped a pancake. “At least on special days like day-after-move-in-day.”

“I was unaware that there were any particular rituals for day-after-move-in-day,” Cas said with a little half-smile. “Are there any others I should know about?”

Dean briefly considered stating that they would need to christen each of the rooms of the house separately. Cas might even believe him. But he had a feeling they’d end up doing that eventually anyway. Also, the risk in Cas believing him was that they’d _both_ end up collapsing from exhaustion and dehydration from trying to pull that off in a single day. Better to stretch it out.

“Nah,” he said instead, “we get to do whatever the hell we want. So, first day semi-retired from the life. What do you want to do with it? Got any hobbies you want to try out?”

Cas opened his mouth to answer, then shut it as a familiar progression of guitar chords sounded from one of the drawers. If he still had the ability to smite, Dean thought his phone would’ve been reduced to ash, just by the power of that glare.

“We can just advise, remember?” Dean said. “Just because someone’s calling doesn’t mean we’ve got to hit the road. Go ahead, grab it and see what it is.”

He’d tried to sound flip about it, but Dean wasn’t too happy they were getting calls already. Not that monsters ever cared about good timing, but the calls had been getting fewer and farther between these days. That’s why they’d decided it was time to move out of the bunker, after all. They wouldn’t actively search out hunts anymore, would basically play Bobby on the phones for the most part, and just take cases when it made sense. If things were going to pick back up, well, then, that was just the universe punishing Dean for trying to carve out something for himself.

“Hello, Garth,” Cas said as he returned to the table. “What do you need?”

Cas still wasn’t big on the small talk.

“That sounds like a fairly simple … Surely there’s someone closer … Fine.”

Yeah, that didn’t sound too good, at least in terms of their enjoying their first full day in their new home.

“So, where are we off to?” Dean asked as he set Cas’s plate in front of him. He thought about topping off Cas’s coffee and decided that’d be a little too domestic. Besides, he still had half a cup.

“Vamp nest just outside of Omaha. Somehow, everybody else between here and there is tied up with some other thing,” Cas grumbled. “There’ve been five deaths in the last two days.”

“Yeah, that can’t wait,” Dean agreed. He topped off both of their coffees. “At least it’s not far. I might even make it back before dinner.”

Cas turned his glare on Dean. It was just wrong how terrifying and sexy that was all at the same time.

“’I’?” he asked. “What do you mean by ‘I’?”

Shit. He should’ve known that wouldn’t go unchallenged.

“It’s just some vamps,” Dean said with a shrug. “No need for both of us to waste the day going up there.”

“Then why don’t I go? I caught the phone call.” Cas crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.

“It’s not that I don’t want you along,” Dean said.

“No, it’s just that you don’t think I can handle hunting as a human. I thought we’d been over this.”

They had. Multiple times. They just had yet to get to the part where the two of them agreed.

“It’s not that you can’t handle it,” Dean said. “You’re just getting used to being human again is all. Like yesterday, you totally knocked yourself on your ass by trying to carry everything in by yourself. At once.”

“A bit of over-exertion is not …”

“It’s a sign that you’re still thinking like an angel,” Dean said. “I’d just feel better about it if your instincts had finished recalibrating.”

“I am not an engine. I don’t ‘calibrate.’”

No kidding. It’d be way the hell easier if he was.

Dean sighed. He knew when he was beat. And at least it was just some vamps.

“Fine, can we rewind a few minutes?” he asked. “ _We_ might even make it back before dinner.

* * *

They did not, in fact, make it back before dinner.

* * *

“I can’t believe you, Dean! What were you thinking?” Cas pulled the gauze tight on Dean’s forearm and slapped some tape on it. He wasn’t gentle about it.

“I was thinking that vamp was about to rip your throat out!” Dean snapped. “This is nothing!”

“It’s not nothing! You said I need to recalibrate. Well, so do you! It’s not like I can just heal you anymore!”

There it was. That tone. After all, it was being in love with Dean that got him sucked into the Empty, all to save Dean’s damn life, only to end up back here as a human. None of the powers he was used to having. None of the super-strength. He was bound to start resenting Dean for it sooner or later. Dean had hoped it might be a little later than the day after moving in together, but maybe it was best to get it over with now.

“I told you, that’s not important, Cas. You’re patching me up just fine, same as Sammy would do if I’d been hunting with him.”

Something about Cas’ scowl changed. Dean tried to convince himself that was a good sign. He was afraid that it wasn’t.

Cas finished securing the bandage and rolled Dean’s tattered sleeve back over it carefully.

“Let’s go home,” Cas said finally. The anger had leached out of his voice, leaving it raspy and empty.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “Home.”


	2. Chapter 2

The problem with trying to live an apple-pie life when you were a) in possession of an unlimited credit card courtesy of Charlie and b) legally dead at least twice over in all fifty states, was that getting a job was both a pain in the neck and kind of pointless. Oh sure, they needed to have some source of income, so people wouldn’t get suspicious. So Dean did odd jobs here and there, and Cas was supposedly writing the next great American novel.

That still left them with loads of free time.

“Well, what do you want to do?” Dean asked Cas for the millionth time. “I mean, you could try writing a book if you wanted to.”

“I am not going to follow in my father’s cursed footsteps,” Cas replied for the million-and-first time. “I’d rather do something with more meaning.”

“Not me. I’ve had enough meaning for one lifetime,” Dean said. “Y’know what? I really liked when I started learning guitar at Sonny’s. Maybe I’ll see if I can pick that up again.”

Cas squinted at him for a second, then smiled. “You should. Something I have enjoyed in the past is watching bees. They are truly fascinating creatures. Perhaps I’ll try that again.

“What, like beekeeping?” Dean was not hoping for a return to the Cas that had been all about watching the bees. That had not been a good time for any of them. Neither had anything involving Cain, and Dean barely suppressed a shudder at that idea. But, if watching the bees was a pleasant memory, that piece anyway, then maybe that’d be good for Cas.

“We could have fresh honey,” Cas said. “Yes, that sounds like a lovely idea.”

“Much as I hate to say it, I think this means we’ve got some research to do.”

Cas smiled. “Better than the usual kind.”

* * *

As it turned out, it was better research. There was a guy in town who taught guitar lessons and even had an old one he was selling for cheap.  
Nobody was exactly selling beehives nearby, but Cas had found blueprints for making one, and it didn’t seem too difficult. Also, it turned out you could order bees online. That just seemed wrong, but it sure made things easier.

Their days fell into a pattern. Get up. Breakfast. Work in the garden around the hive. Apparently it needed all kinds of flowers to keep the bees happy, and it didn’t hurt that it ended up looking kind of colorful. Then Dean would either go into town for a guitar lesson or spend some time practicing.

If you asked him, he’d swear up and down a stack of Kurt Vonnegut that Cas was the one who’d wanted a covered swing in the backyard so he could drink sweet tea in the shade whenever he took a break from tending his garden. It was just a coincidence that rocking the swing was a great way to keep a beat while Dean practiced within view of a sweaty Cas.

Sam and Eileen came over once in a while with Caity, though more often Dean and Cas went to visit them in their safely baby-proof home. 

Considering how normal it was for them to have dinner together like this, Dean thought he could be excused for not seeing Sammy’s trap for what it was.

First, there were the burgers. Big, thick, juicy burgers with cheese and sauteed onions and bacon. Dean’s favorite beer. Apple pie for dessert.

“What is it, my birthday?” he asked as he went for his second piece of pie.

“Actually, we were hoping to ask you a favor,” Eileen said. “Do the two of you have anything planned for Friday night?”

Even if they’d had any plans, they’d have changed them. More time to play with little Caity? He was all for that, and besides, it wasn’t like they’d been asking all the time.

“She’s been sleeping through the night,” Sam said. “So she shouldn’t wake up and freak out that we’re not here.”

Considering she was currently trying to swipe a potato wedge from Dean’s plate, Dean thought that might be the least of their worries. She’d only just started sitting up well enough to be in a high chair at the table with them, and already she wanted the good stuff? Yeah, she was going to be a handful. An awesome handful, but a handful.

“Of course, we will, Sam,” Cas said. “You two haven’t had a night out since before Caity was born.”


	3. Chapter 3

Dean had thought he was more than ready to babysit his four-month-old niece. It was high time Sam and Eileen got some time together alone. Sam had booked some fancy restaurant over in Phillipsburg. Dean had tried to convince them to book a hotel room, mostly because they tended to look like they hadn’t slept since little Caity had been born. They weren’t ready to be away from her for more than an evening, though what they _said_ was that they were worried she’d be frightened if she woke up and they weren’t there.

“You’ll text me if she’s fussing,” Eileen said firmly. “We can come right back.”

Dean tickled his niece’s nose as he cradled her with his other arm. She made a noise that might pass for the beginning of a laugh. It was adorable. Kid was gonna be a heartbreaker someday.

“I think we’ll be good,” he said. “Don’t forget, I practically raised him, and he turned out okay.”

“That explains a lot,” she replied.

“Hey!” Sam said at the same time Dean did.

Cas just shook his head. “Don’t you need to be there for your reservation?”

That spurred them out the door, even though Eileen pointed to the list of phone numbers stuck to the fridge with a magnet as they passed it on their way.

Granted, she knew as well as any of them just how many things could happen. Most of them were unlikely to need the pediatrician’s on-call line or the poison control center, though. Once she got mobile, well, all bets were off. 

Once Sammy and Eileen were on their way, Cas took his turn holding their niece. He was still a little awkward at it, but between whatever of Jimmy’s memories he still had and his one disastrous night of babysitting in Rexford, he was actually pretty good with her.

“I’d been looking forward to having this with Jack,” he said out of the blue. “I get why he had to grow up so fast, but … he should’ve had the chance to be cared for like this.”

“Yeah, he should’ve,” Dean agreed. He hadn’t thought so at the time, but now … yeah. “Turned out pretty okay though. I mean, it’s not everybody can say their kid grew up to be God.”

Cas just shook his head at that, still looking at Caity, who was blowing bubbles at him. Then she started whimpering.

“Okay, okay,” he said softly, shifting her to his other arm. “Better?”

She moved on from whimpering to full-on crying.

“Want me to take her?” Dean asked.

“I’ve got her,” Cas said. “She probably just needs her diaper changed.”

She didn’t need her diaper changed. She’d just been fed and wasn’t interested in the bottle of milk Dean warmed up for her. She settled a little when Cas bounced her in his arms and walked back and forth across the living room, but then ramped right back up.

“Do you think she just misses them?” Cas asked. “Should we text them?”

“Nah,” Dean replied. “Let me take her for a sec.”

Cas passed her over with a huff. Dean tightened up her little burrito blanket and got her to rest her head on his shoulder. She settled down after barely a minute. Cas looked at her like she’d just kicked over his beehive.

“Why did that work?” he asked.

“Sometimes babies just like to be wrapped up tight,” Dean said. “Here, see for yourself.”

That turned out to have been the wrong decision. The second Cas took her, she started fussing again. By the time he had her cradled against her shoulder, she was back to crying.

“What am I doing wrong?” Cas demanded. “She’s not warm. She can’t be teething yet, can she? But then why would she be quiet for you even if she was?”

“Did the blanket come loose?” Dean asked. “Seriously, try setting her down on the couch and rolling her into a burrito.”

Caity was not impressed by any of this. She didn’t want to be a burrito. She didn’t want a pacifier. Every time Dean took her she settled down. Every time Cas took her, she ramped back up.

“She just likes you better,” he said at last, passing her back over. “You should hang on to her until Sam and Eileen get back.”

“Dude, other than Eileen and Sam, she doesn’t know who anybody is. I don’t think she’s playing favorites.”

Cas looked like he was going to say something, but then he just shook his head and flopped down on the couch. Dean looked down at his niece, who was peacefully trying to fit her entire fist into her mouth.

“You are going to be as big a troublemaker as your Dad,” he whispered.

* * *

The next day, Cas didn’t seem to be enjoying his garden, or his bees, as much as usual. He was still tending his flowers, still smiled at the bees when they landed on him as he worked, but there was something just off about him. Had been since last night.

Sam and Eileen had enjoyed their date, and by the time they got back, Caity was sound asleep in her bassinet. Dean and Cas both swore she’d been the perfect baby, which she had, and headed home. 

Cas didn’t say a word the whole way home.

He didn’t say anything as he got ready for bed or even when he climbed under the covers next to Dean. He didn’t even kiss Dean good night, which was a first since he’d gotten back from the Empty. 

Dean had tried not to let that bother him. Sometimes a guy just needed to work some shit out in his head. But when it was the man you loved who’d just come back from the dead (again) who you were finally together with after more than a decade of both having your heads up your own asses, well, it was kind of hard not to worry.

So, he went and fixed Mrs. Smith’s old Ford and picked up some groceries on the way home. He took his guitar and considered practicing in their room instead of on the swing, but it was a gorgeous late spring afternoon. It’d be getting too hot for this before long. Just because Cas was in a mood was no reason he should have to stay inside. He hadn’t done anything wrong, at least not that he could tell.

As he sat on the swing, gently rocking it, he worked through the chords his teacher had given him to work on for the week. Why the hell did he have to be working on minor keys right now? They all sounded either creepy or sad. Meanwhile, Cas was looking like he was about to cry, which was actually kind of terrifying.

Was this when he realized how much he’d given up? How much he’d thrown away to be with Dean? How it was absolutely not worth it?

“What are we even doing?” Cas asked.

Dean stopped mid-strum. “What?”

“What are we doing?” Cas said. “I thought I could find meaning in this. Creating my own little haven of peace and beauty. But the bees don’t care if the garden is symmetrical, or if the colors look pleasing to the human eye. They see much different colors than we do after all.”

They did?

“And if this weren’t here, they’d just find other flowers, other gardens. There’s not a reason for them to be here.”

“They’re here because you made a home for them,” Dean said. “Because _we_ made a home for them, even though you’ve been doing the lion’s share of the work since the hive got built.”

“And what about you?” Cas looked right at him. “Can you really tell me you’re happy fixing broken-down cars and playing guitar?”

“You forgot the awesome sex,” Dean said with a grin.

The joke fell flat.

“What are you saying, Cas?”

“I don’t know! I just … I need a purpose. I’ve always had some kind of a purpose. I know it wasn’t alway good, but it was there. I don’t know if I know how to just … be. And I don’t understand how you can.”

Dean thought about it. “I’m kind of liking not having a purpose. That was all Chuck’s bullshit, you know? I thought we were building something good here, Cas.”

“But what _is_ it?” Cas asked. “Sam and Eileen, they’re building a family with Caity. What is it that we’re creating?”

“You mean you want a kid?” Dean asked. “Another one?”

He wasn’t sure he could do that again. Uncle? Sure. But between Ben, and then Emma, and Jack, never mind having raised Sam while he was a kid himself, Dean was kind of good with not being a parent right now.

“I don’t know,” Cas said. “I don’t think so? I just …”

Cas’s phone started playing some pop song or other. He wiped his hands on his jeans and pulled the phone out of his pocket, thumbing the screen in one fluid movement on the way to his ear.

“Claire?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”


	4. Chapter 4

Everything was wrong.

No wonder Claire hadn’t wanted to call Jody about this clusterfuck. At least Kaia had gotten her to reach out to Cas. What was supposed to be a werewolf pack had turned out to be a bunch of witches.

Dean really, really hated witches.

Claire had taken one of them out, once she’d gotten loaded up on witch-killing bullets. Kaia had grabbed the kid they were going to sacrifice and taken her … somewhere safe, Dean hoped. Now there were just two witches left and three of them.

If they could find the friggin’ witches, the three of them would have them outnumbered. Obviously, they realized this, because they’d run in different directions.

He kept reminding himself that if witches could teleport, then Rowena would’ve done that at least once in the time they’d known her. So these witches were around here somewhere. They had to be.

Claire had run for the basement before Dean could stop her, so Dean had laid claim to the attic. The main floor was pretty much cleared anyway, and if Cas got into trouble, well, at least he was at ground level.

The attic was about what he’d expected: lots of dust, plenty of spiders, and a creepy-looking altar full of animal skulls and what he seriously hoped was incense dust. There was a sigil drawn in blood in the center of the altar that matched the one in the “living room” downstairs, encircled with lit candles. Once he was sure there was nobody else up here, Dean blew out the candles. For good measure, he pulled a small can of spray paint out of his jacket pocket, gave it a good shake, and sprayed a slash across the sigil. That should cut short any fuckery their magic was still doing.

A thump from downstairs had him running before he’d even fully processed it. He scrambled down the rickety attic stairs and found himself in the midst of chaos.

One of the witches had Cas by the neck, a ritual knife at his throat. Several feet away, Claire had her gun trained on the witch.

“Try it, sweetie,” the witch said. “He’ll be dead before he hits the floor, and your puny magic bullet will barely leave a scratch on me.”

“You sure about that?” Dean asked. He held up the paint can. “If that shit upstairs was your protection mojo, well, it ain’t anymore.”

“Filthy hunter!” the witch spat, grip tightening on Cas. A line of red appeared at the knife’s edge. “You’re messing with things you don’t understand!”

They should never have come. They should have really retired. Except Cas was never going to leave Claire on her own when she actually asked for help. Except he was never going to get to make that call again because the crazed look in the witch’s eye made it clear this standoff was not going to be resolved without bloodshed.

This guy was going to have to take Dean out too, then, because no way was Dean going through that again. Just no.

“No,” Cas said. “It’s you who are dealing with things you do not understand.”

Startled, the witch shifted his grasp on Cas, who managed to take advantage of the momentary inattention to work an arm loose and grab hold of the blade at his throat. Claire fired. So did Dean. The witch crumpled to the floor and Cas pushed his way clear of the corpse.

Dean ran to him, eyes glued to the nick at his throat.

“That’s okay,” Cas said. “What I could use some help with is …”

“Oh shit.”  
When Cas had grabbed that blade, it had dug deep into his hand, and when he’d pried himself away from the witch, it had torn viciously across it. It barely looked like a hand now, just bones, meat, and lots of blood.

Claire was at Dean’s elbow with a first aid kit before he could form a full sentence.

“Cas,” she said, “I’mma wrap this up for now, but can I … can you …?” She took a breath and held up a bottle of hundred proof whiskey. “This is gonna hurt like hell, but we’ve gotta be sure you don’t get infected. I … usually heal up from stuff pretty quickly. Do you think …?”

“That is probably due to some of my residual grace,” Cas said.

Shit, Dean had forgotten that Cas had possessed her that one time.

“But I do not believe I would be able to access it. Thank you for thinking of it. Please, just go ahead.”

Dean held Cas tight while Claire poured the whiskey over his battered hand, and the man he loved screamed.


	5. Chapter 5

The mid-August heat was almost completely unbearable, as far as Dean was concerned. No more playing guitar on the swing-glider-thing for him at least until the sun went down. More likely sometime in September, dammit. So he was perched in his new favorite spot: their bed, just a few feet away from the air conditioner. He worked his way through both of the songs he was comfortable with, then just strummed away at this week’s chords.

A very sweaty Cas came into the room, shutting the door behind him, and flopping onto the bed backwards. He wriggled his way closer to Dean until his head was practically in Dean’s lap. He was wearing that “Bee Happy” t-shirt that Dean had gotten him as a joke.

  
[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/146072938@N08/51024598078/in/album-72157718606283217/)  
  


Dean’s eyes strayed to where Cas’s hands rested against his belly and chest. You could hardly tell how badly damaged his right hand had been. What scars there were mostly showed on the palm side. Dean wasn’t sure exactly what strings someone had pulled to make sure he got a surgeon who’d be able to make sure he kept almost full use of his hand, but he was grateful nonetheless.

“Play that one again,” Cas said.

“Which one?”

“The song you were just playing.”

“That wasn’t a real song,” Dean protested. “Just practice.”

“Then practice some more,” Cas said with a smile. “I liked it.”

“Seriously?”

“I think I’m learning to just enjoy the moment,” Cas said. He looked up at Dean with a smile. “Make it up as we go along.”

Dean grinned back at him and started working through his chords again, mixing them up here and there. Making it up as he went. Yeah, he could do that.


End file.
